Ten Seconds to Midnight
by Catgirl AnimeFreak
Summary: Carter's gone, and I'm still here. His wife will have a baby, and I will have nothing. But I'm happy for them. FloraxSkye
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, I started this fic because I'm a little stuck on my other one, **_**Jack's Secret**_**. It probably won't be updated quite as much as some of you would like, but it will be fairly normal as I overcome the stickiness of writer's block.**

**Another note: This is my first fully first-person, so please go easy on me!**

**I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters – that belongs to Natsume and any partners it so chooses to have. Rest assured that, as soon as I **_**do**_** own Harvest Moon and/or any of it's characters, I'll be sure to let you know. :)**

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**I wrapped the warm blanket tightly around me. It was on nights like these that I missed Carter the most – there was really nothing between us, but on cold winter nights, he'd lend me his arm for warmth.

I say there was nothing between us, but recalling _before_ the spring of two years ago – before _she_ had arrived – there may have been a slight shimmer of the lust we had shared long before becoming professionals.

Sighing slightly at my hopeless recounts of days-gone-by, I poked at the fire blazing in front of me. Even if I sound bitter, I'm really not; the man and I had agreed mutually that we could no longer share the emotions and wild escapades we had had in our much younger years.

_I'm happy for them. I really am._ I smiled to myself, bringing the puffy blanket closer to my body. Recalling the first day I had met Pony, I couldn't help but chuckle and close my eyes.

--

Carter and I stood at either side of the dig site, each inspecting our territory. It was about noon, and we had been in the dim lighting for approximately four hours already, and another ten was stretched out in front of us.

That's when she entered – her chestnut hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that rested on top of her head like a crown. She had run in, and skidded to a stop. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she pardoned, blushing slightly. "I hadn't realized there would be people in here." She bowed graciously and neatly.

"It's alright," I muttered. By the look on her face, I guess my British accent threw her off. All I could do was smile at her; she was really cute, in her own way.

"May we help you in any way?" Carter offered as he wiped his dusty hands on a kerchief he had pulled from his pocket.

The girl grinned sheepishly, her violet eyes sparkling. "I'm new here! Arrived with my mother this morning – now I'm just introducing myself to everyone."

"Pleased to meet you," Carter greeted, extending his hand.

"You, too!" she returned brightly, taking his hand in her grasp. That's when I noticed something in his eyes. A flash of youth, a glimmer of memory – this girl had awakened something in him that I had created almost ten years ago.

With a wave of her hand and a warm promise of "See you around!" this beautiful girl skirted out of our den.

"What a bright face," he commented, still standing in the doorway.

"Hm," I uttered, agreeing without a word. "Quite cheerful – it'll be nice to have her around."

I watched as Carter put the kerchief back in his pocket; he clicked his tongue quietly, and I knew he was thinking of something. I smiled to myself – there was that light in his eyes. The light that I knew to mean, "I need some quiet time to gather my thoughts."

"I have to get something from the tent," I lied, smiling at him. "I'll be back in a bit."

He paid me a glance and a slight shift of his head that I took as a nod. I heard him click his tongue another three times as I left the darkness and let the sun hit my skin.

"You dating that guy?"

I spun to see the girl standing outside the opening to the cavern. Her eyes were innocent and curious as she waited for an answer. "Who, Carter?" I asked, though I knew who she meant.

She nodded. "He seems kind of old for you," she said, smiling.

I furrowed my eyebrows at her. "Excuse me," I frowned at her, "I grew up with that man. He's only three years older than me – he's twenty-nine."

The girl's jaw dropped. "_Really_? Oh, wow – I thought he was forty-something." She stepped closer and held out her hand. "The name's Pony, by the way."

"_Pony?_" I echoed, trying to make the word fit as a name. She seemed amused by this, as she grinned and scratched the back of her neck.

"My dad's doing, supposedly," she remarked, relieving me of my morbid curiosity. "I guess he was a real big fan of _The Outsiders_, and he made a deal that my mom could name the first two kids, but he wanted to name the third one either Sodapop or Ponyboy." She grinned widely. "I have two older brothers, so he was really excited to have a son to name. Mom says he was only slightly miffed when I came out a girl, but he was still hell-bent on naming the third child after a character from his favourite book."

"Oh," was all I could say. "My name is Flora – I … don't have nearly as interesting story as you do, though," I quipped, smiling at her as she giggled.

"Well, I'd better get going," she finally stated. "I like you, Flora, so visit anytime." She grinned childishly at me, totally unaware of the impact her words had on me. "I live at that old abandoned ranch, where Mr. Takakura lives."

"You live with Takakura?!" I asked, astounded and a little too loudly. She flinched and giggled nervously.

"N-no, not _with _him – that guy creeps me out. We live in the itty-bitty house beside him." She showed with her fingers just how 'itty-bitty' the house was.

--

She was eighteen, then – eleven years Carter's junior. They shared a secret morbid curiosity about each other, and as I spent many days visiting her and her mother, she spent twice the amount of nights spent with Carter as he delved away in the mine. She would ask him any questions, not caring about how personal they were, and after he answered, he would return them.

A year after she came here, her mother died from illness. After the funeral, she finally confessed to Carter and myself that she was now an orphan – that her father had died two years prior to arriving in Forget-Me-Not Valley. It was then, for the first time that I had met her, she burst out in tears.

Carter did something amazing. To this day, I still can't believe he had done it – he took a step forward, murmuring her name softly, and as she looked up he swept her into his arms. I couldn't hear the soft words he chimed in her ear, but I knew they were amazing simply because he was a man who cared. I could tell by the way the look in her eyes changed from self-hatred to warm kindness and understanding that it was working. I smiled at the two of them as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, nodding and sobbing softly.

I turned on my heels and left the itty-bitty house to wait for Carter to return home. As I walked, I didn't think of anything. I knew what I was walking away from; I didn't have to think it over and over in my head as to what his and her actions would accumulate to. I was accepting it – I _wanted_ it. To see him happy, and to know she was getting the pick of the crop, that's all I cared about. Pony was more than my friend – she was closer to being a daughter or sister, and I really couldn't have wished for a man more suitable for her.

I wiped my one and only tear away.

I was _happy_ for them.

--

That was then, and this is now. The first of Winter. They were married on the second of Spring, and Pony has a new life inside of her. I looked at my calloused hand, remembering the feeling of the kick. I was shocked, but Pony assured me that it was a happy kick – she could now tell the difference.

I stared into the fire blazing in front of me longingly. _I want a child, too,_ I heard a voice mumble in my head. I sighed and held my freezing hands closer to the flames.

"Don't hurt yourself."

I didn't have time to stop myself; I let out a loud war cry and knocked the feet out from under the stranger. He hit the frozen ground on his stomach with a thud, and I pinned him so he couldn't move.

"Who are you?!" I demanded.

"You're really ferocious, you know," he commented, sounding amused.

"Answer my question!"

"Can I at least turn on my back so we can look at each other while we talk?"

I hesitated for a brief second before forcefully flipping him over and pinning his hands. I looked down into his perfectly proportioned face and his clear blue eyes. He gasped as he looked up at me.

"You're … you're beautiful," he murmured. "You must be the Goddess of Beauty."

I clenched my teeth to keep myself from blushing. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" I demanded.

"I go by Skye," he replied, smiling, "and I've come here to see if there was anything I could lift off your hands."

"Lift off …?" I mumbled, and then came to the realization. "You're that thief!" I let go of him and stood up as if he had burned me.

He slowly and gracefully came to his feet, wiping off the dirt from his clothes and running his fingers through his silver hair. He looked at me in a way that almost made my knees buckle – he had that assertiveness about him that every woman desires in a man. He knew what he wanted and nothing was going to stop him.

As he took a step forward, I picked up a small log from the pile beside me and tossed it at him. He caught it perfectly and inspected it. "What's this for?" he asked, still turning it about in his hands.

"That's all you deserve," I replied. "It's worth a single Gold piece – just like you."

I couldn't help but wish I had taken back those words when I saw irritation and hurt flash in the boy's eyes. "Very well," he said, still as assertive as before. "It's obvious you don't much care for me, so I'll take my leave."

He bowed low and gracefully. When he turned to leave, he glanced at the fire, then at me. "You're alone, aren't you?" he dared to ask.

"What business is that of yours?" I asked, sounding a little too defensive.

He chuckled, taking my reaction as an answer he wanted to hear. "Here," he tossed the log into the fire, "Maybe I can provide you with some warmth."

The fire engulfed the present it was given, and Skye walked away from me. As he disappeared into the darkness, he spun around, his hands nested in his pockets.

"I'll be back," he promised.

"Don't bother," I replied darkly.

He faded away, and all that was left of him was the echo of his laugh, but even that left me. I sat down on the cold, hard ground and pulled the blanket around me again.

Is it just me, or is the fire a lot warmer?

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****Hope you enjoyed this! I do hope to continue this.**

**So, how was my Flora POV? CC appreciated!**

**REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for your great reviews thus far!**

**You know (crap – rant time) I think it's kind of dangerous for me to be writing in first-person, and I think I'm finally understanding why I don't do it more often. See, The Scarlet Sky (who's an **_**amazing**_** author, might I add) pointed out that Flora was being skeptical. I spent the next one to two hours trying to figure out why Flora was considered as such. It finally hit me when I was in the shower – Flora may have been happy for Pony and Carter, but she was in **_**love**_**. In the process of writing the first chapter of this fanfiction, I had stepped so heavily in character that I had instead **_**become**_** Flora. I wonder what will happen if she got depressed?**

**That being said, I dedicate this chapter to both The Scarlet Sky and Sunshinegirlx3's sweet little cousin, Summer, who turned eight last Monday. Go-go Summie! It's not Graire, but Skora's pretty cute, too, right? … **_**Right?!**_** D:**

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"I suppose that's all I'll do for today. I should get back to Pony early tonight."

I turned to look at the man, who was digging the familiar kerchief out of his pocket to wipe his hands. "When is she due?" I heard myself ask.

He grinned proudly. "Near the end of the season," he replied, taking his spectacles off to wipe them down, too. "She won't calm down, either – she's still managing to do most of the farm work herself." He chuckled and replaced the eyeglasses onto his nose, only to grumble and take them off again.

I sighed at the sorry sight and smiled. "You're hopeless," I mumbled as I walked over to him and took his glasses. I wiped them down with my own, much cleaner kerchief and handed his possession back to him.

He smiled warmly down at me. "You'll always take care of me won't you, Flora?"

"I shouldn't have to," I smiled back at him. "It's what you get for marrying such a young girl."

We shared a light chuckle before he disappeared out of the entrance. I checked my watch – it just clicked to 5:25, and I sighed again._ I'll only stay until six or so. I don't like staying here alone,_ I decided as a knelt to dig in the dirt.

I guess I lost track of time, though, because the next time I looked at my watch – to my own defense, I thought it was only twenty minutes later – it was nearing midnight. I sighed and gathered my tools; _I_ was hopeless one without someone there to remind that sleep and food are both necessities. Exiting the closed-off darkness, I gasped at the beauty of the full moonlight shimmering on the lake, the waterfall, and the mist flying towards the source of light.

I dropped the tools by the tent and walked over to the gushing waterfall. Before I was even ten feet from the cascade, its icy tears stung at my face, both numbing and revitalizing my senses. I continued my trek, step by step, and looked down past my reflection into the deadly-but-silky depths. _It's almost tempting to fall in and sleep there forever_, I thought, ignoring the morbidity of the consideration.

"Don't hurt yourself."

I spun around, but it was unnecessary. With the first meeting of three days ago still fresh in my mind, I knew who, exactly, was giving me the warning. "You," I grunted, sounding very unwomanly.

The boy put a finger to the side of his lips and smiled. "Me," he replied charmingly. I clenched my fists as he walked over beside me. "It _is_ tempting to let yourself fall into these waves and never rise to the moonlight again, isn't it?" he muttered poetically as he, too, contemplated over the watery depths.

I gasped instinctively and he turned to look at me. "Oh, so that _was_ what you were thinking," he commented, sounding a little surprised. "It's a shame that such a beautiful goddess like yourself is so unhappy," he held a gaudy necklace to my neck. "You'd look even more attractive with jewelry – if that's possible."

"I don't like having attention," I snapped, snatching the trinket away. I looked down at it, immediately recognizing the familiar mosaic patterns. "You stole this!" I accused, staring at him. "I dug this up today!"

He laughed at pushed hair away from his eyes. "I was wondering if you'd notice," he quipped. When he saw my accusing stare hadn't faltered, he raised his hands innocently. "I haven't stolen anything else – if you wish to search my body yourself, go ahead."

I reared back, a sudden feeling of disgust burning in my gut. "You're horrible," I mumbled, looking away into the silky bed again.

"Then why are you blushing?"

I felt his finger brush across my cheek, and in a gasp, flash, and splash, I was looking at the thief shivering in the water. He looked up at me, all charm lost in shock and cold; I looked down at him, anger and disapproval written evenly across my brow.

And then I felt it; it started as a small twitch at the corners of my lips, and then to a slight titter, and it quickly ascended to a furious fit of giggles. My knees gave out in weakness beneath me and I fell to the ground, clutching my gut and hopelessly covering my mouth as the much-needed laughter spilled out into the air.

My eyes were clenched shut, but I heard the boy swimming towards the edge, his velvet laughter joining my childish giggles. They subsided in mere seconds and the night was calm again. I looked down at the thief, still submerged in water and trying not to clatter his teeth too loudly; and for the time that our eyes met, I admired him on some strange, unknown level. I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

In a second, I knew. In a second, his arms shot out in front of him and his ice-cold fingers and lukewarm palms clasped around my hips. I screamed as he pulled me into the waves with him, clamoring for something to halt the descent on the frozen ground; there was nothing, though, and my head was finally swallowed by the water. It was silent. It was dark. It was … scary, surprisingly. Lonely. My arms started flailing as I scrambled for the surface. My hand reached the bitter air first, followed by the rest of my body. As the water popped out of my ears, the sound of the familiar velvet laughter resounded inside my skull.

"Y-You're horrible!" I squeaked as I made my way to the edge. I could barely see through the mop of hair as it clung to my face.

He was still laughing as he approached me. "A-am I?" he wondered. "Y-you d-did it first!"

I climbed out of the water, shaking as goose bumps the size of mountains formed all over my body. He climbed out beside me. "That d-doesn't mean y-you c-can do it y-yourself!"

I flinched as I felt his fingers on my face again – I hadn't seen them since I still had my hair over my eyes. He gently rid me of this problem, pushing my already-curling locks back. "Y-your face is f-frozen," he said, still emitting that aura of charm even though his teeth kept clinking together.

"S-so are y-your fingers," I returned, my clattering much less suppressed than his.

"Y-you should h-head inside y-your t-tent."

We stared at each other for awhile before I nodded. "A-alright," I murmured. "G-good bye, th-then."

I stood as he let his fingers fall from my cheek. My knees were still shaking as I walked away, and I was grateful that I had left the little gasoline heater on. I slipped off my shirt and knelt by the humming heater, warming up my hands and body. I heard the wind flap open the entrance and I stood to close it – gasping as I saw the thief standing there with his fingers over his mouth, his eyebrows raised and cheeks just a rosy tint; compared to my face, which I'm certain was as red as an apple.

"W-what are you doing here?!" I demanded, covering my pink frilly bra with my shirt. I knew that my stammering had nothing to do with the cold now.

"I f-figured that, s-since you threw me into the l-lake, you'd be so k-kind and hospitable to let me w-warm up," he replied smoothly, letting one finger remain on his chin. He burst out into a wide grin. "Though I wasn't q-quite expecting _this_ m-much hospitality."

"Get out!" I ordered, gently pushing him out of the tent. He looked at me, confused, as his teeth started clattering quietly again. He was quite pitiful-looking, to say the least. I sighed, giving in. "Let me change first. I'll let you in after."

Before he could say any poetic words of gratitude, I zipped the outside flap shut, which is the equivalent to slamming the door when you live in a tent. I walked over and quickly changed into my pajamas and slipped another heavy sweater on (for extra cold and thief protection) and began searching for something the boy could wear. Carter had left some of his PJ's behind, but considering this fellow was considerably shorter and about a third the width, I figured one of mine would be more suitable.

Finding a dull gray pair, I opened the tent to let him inside. He nearly ran in, and I felt a pang of guilt when I saw that he was shaking quite badly, and his ears and nose were a shade closer to blue. But his smile warmed up his icicle demeanor, and I felt a little forgiven.

"Here," I said, holding out the fabrics to him. "You'll catch something if you stay in those wet clothes."

The boy took the articles from me, still smiling. "D-do you always t-take such good care of o-others?" he stuttered.

"Some would argue I take better care of them than I do myself," I muttered as I turned around to get the tea ready. As I worked, I heard him struggle out of his wet clothes. His shirt landed beside me and the urge to peek welled up. _One little peek_, a voice urged. _It will be so quick, he won't even notice. Just take a tiny glance at him._

I bit my lip, unsure of my confidence, and glanced over my shoulder. He was in the midst of taking off his black undershirt, so it gave me time to drink in what I was seeing. He was thin – very thin – and equally as pale. But, as pale as he was, he wasn't nearly as pasty as Norton from high school was. The creamy white of this boy was somehow tempting; I wanted to reach out and touch this skin, unlike the grotesque effect Norton had had on me on the school swimming outing. Poor bloke – I don't think he'll ever recover from all the nipple-twisters that day had led to.

I felt my cheeks warm up as I turned around. _You were admiring him_, a voice sang out in my head. _You looked at him, and you liked what you saw._ So what if I did? So what if, when I saw him, I wanted to jump his bones right then and there? I didn't; I have more self control than that.

I'm _not_ a lonely old broad.

I was brought out of my thoughts by movement in the corner of my eye. I stood and watched as the crook gathered his belongings and looked at me quizzically. "What do you want done with these?" he asked.

There were no insinuations; no hints. He didn't continue on to say 'Should I just throw them into the fire, since I know I won't be leaving this tent now?' He just asked an honest, sincere question, and as he stared at me patiently, I was staring right back at him, stunned and confused.

"Hello?" he asked, waving his fingers in front of my eyes. "Earth to Goddess – are you there?"

I jumped and felt my face blush slightly. "Oh, yes – sorry about that," I pardoned, pushing a loose curl behind my ear and averting my gaze. "Yes, right – you can put your clothes right on the …" _Fire pit – say it, fire pit!_ I hesitated as the rotten voice that remained from my teenage years screamed at me. "Err … on the clothes line over there."

I pointed to the make-shift line I had tied over where Carter used to sleep, and as the young man turned his back on me, I slapped at my skull angrily. I replaced my scowl with a nervous grin just as soon as he turned around, and he returned it with a warm smile.

"How do I look?" he asked, extending his arms to the side. "Not exactly my choice of colour … or clothing, for that matter."

I inspected him – the sleeves reached to his fingers and the shirt was way too big on his body. "Like you're eight," I assessed, to which I was proud to hear his laughter. "Would you like some tea?" I offered, kneeling down to the small burner which held an equally as small pot full of bubbling water.

"If it meant spending more time with you, then certainly," he replied, sitting across from me. I glanced up to see he was smiling, which he immediately turned into a charming grin. I suddenly had a bit of head rush; I was feeling flustered for some reason.

"O-oh!" I cried out as the pot slipped out of my grasp. My fingers felt numb and tingled with every movement; then they were supported. By _his_ fingers. His soft, delicate fingers, which contrasted my own calloused digits.

"Careful," he whispered into my ear. His lips tickled my skin, and his breath ran down my neck. That's when I realized just how close he had gotten – when the pot started to fall, he moved to catch it, and was now pushed up beside me as he reached around my back to hold the mugs in front of me. He finished pouring the hot liquid into the mugs, and before I knew it – before I was ready – he moved away, letting me breath again.

"I'm such a klutz," I muttered, following with a small, uneasy laugh.

"No wonder," he replied quietly. "Your fingers are freezing. I hope that water didn't do any damage."

A gasp caught in my throat as he took both my hands and brought them to his lips. His breath was warm – but I suppose that was the logistics of his actions, wasn't it? Still, I watched in amazement at this young man; Carter _never_ did anything like this. He would laugh his hearty laugh after my comment and tell me to watch it next time. I was still preoccupied with this as he finished by closing my hands around one of the hot mugs.

"Keep them there," he said softly, carefully massaging my hands. "I don't want you to get frostbite." He looked up and smiled brightly. I couldn't take my eyes away from his lips as my own started to tingle.

_I wonder if he'd massage my lips_, that teenage voice pondered. _I wonder if he'd take my lips in his soft hold and bring them to his …?_

I started and looked around nervously, hoping to the Goddess that no one had heard my thoughts. I looked down into my mug then sheepishly glanced up at him – who was busying himself with tugging a blanket off my sleeping bag. I watched as he wrapped it around himself, and then looked at me and smiled, opening up the side to let me in, too. I hesitated for only a moment, but I figured that the freezing feeling that I still had was enough of a reason.

After I situated myself beside the young man, he tied the blanket closed and reached through an opening to take his mug of tea. There, we sat; each taking an infrequent sip of the Earl Gray, and basking in each other's warmth.

Well, no; I'm probably the only one basking in his warmth. After all, it's not very often that someone like _me_ gets to sit so close to such an attractive young man. I'm certain he's got his chance to sit by beautiful women more than once. With that charm and grace, he could probably –

"How old are you?"

The question took me by surprised and I was stunned for a few seconds. I stared at him as he looked at me, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"Oh! Uhm … twenty-eight," I replied, looking away and pushing a curl behind my ear.

"Really?" he asked, sounding a little too astounded. "I though you were younger."

The hair prickled up on the back of my neck as my head whipped back at him. "I beg your pardon?" I growled, dropping the shy demeanor.

He laughed and pushed his silver hair out of his eyes. "It was a compliment!" he laughed. He smiled and looked at me. "But, you know – you're a first. I've never liked someone older than me."

I looked away as my heart pounded and my face heated up. What was this that was coming over me? I felt like I was twelve again – I just couldn't calm down around this guy.

"Don't tell me I've embarrassed the goddess with nerves of steel," I heard him murmur, sounding amused.

"I don't have nerves of steel," I mumbled, glancing back at him. He was smiling, and his eyes were looking at me warmly, which caused my heart to pound harder.

He laughed and brought me closer. I was still flustered, so I didn't fight it when he gently pushed my head onto his shoulder. "You really don't," he whispered. "You're just like putty when you're tired."

I nodded and felt myself starting to drift away. He took the mug out of my hands before I could spill any of the contents, and he held me close. Even Carter wasn't this gentle and thorough when keeping me warm – he'd just put one arm around me and offered his shoulder. I didn't miss him – I was happy for him – but he was nice to have around. I buried my face into the soft skin of this young man's neck; it wasn't at all like Carter's, which always had scratchy stubble that would make my forehead itch.

"You really are a goddess of beauty, aren't you?" I heard the young man whisper.

"I'm not a goddess," I replied.

"Then what's your name?"

"Flora."

--

"Come on."

I don't remember falling asleep – hell, I barely even remember coming into the tent. But when that whisper tickled at my ear and woke me from my dreamless slumber, I complied and drowsily stumbled to my feet.

Warm hands gently guided me to my sleeping bag – was it Carter? No, his hands weren't this soft, this warm … this welcoming. As I lay down in the warmth of the fabrics, I reached for the welcoming hands and entwined my fingers in his. A soft chuckle filled the dead of the night, and I felt soft lips kiss my hand and fingers before letting go.

The warm hands returned when a curl was brushed off my forehead and my glasses were removed. I was drifting away again as a whispered promise to be seen again soon echoed in my ears.

I felt my lips curl into a small smile as I was carried away into sleep.

**Sorry if the flow is a little weird. I had to take a few days break because of the stress level I was feeling due to pre-college life. Ho-hum – here's to happy endeavors!**

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	3. Chapter 3

**I'm not sure how I'm going to write this chapter … hmm, I guess I'll just have to go with the flow.**

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The clang filled the air as the metal tool I was using hit another find. Taking up a brush, I moved the dust away from the object and picked it up; Carter walked over to me and leaned over my shoulder to look at the necklace in my hands.

"Just another broken accessory," I mumbled, tossing it aside. It wasn't worth anything more than fifty Gold if it was busted.

"Maybe they wouldn't be broken if you'd let up on the destruction," Carter said.

My head whipped around and I glared at him. What usually made him rear back in fear didn't faze him in the slightest – it was either he was expecting this, or he's gotten used to it with his damned pregnant wife.

He reached over and took the small, hoe-like tool away from me as he sighed. "I know you've been aggravated by this cold you've had, but it just won't let up with your blood pressure so high." He walked away, back to his pile of tools and tossed mine into the litter. "It's late, and I want to get home to Pony – what with Winter Thanksgiving being tomorrow and all."

I could _hear_ the grin playing on his lips and I bit my tongue to keep from screaming in frustration. _Everyone_ had someone to give cookies to, except _me_. Celia had Marlin, Muffy had Griffin, Lumina had Rock and, _hell –_ even Nami was going to give cookies to Gustafa.

And _Pony_ – Pony had her husband and father of her unborn child …

"I'm leaving now – see you tomorrow."

I didn't answer Carter – I twitched my head away from him, and I heard him click his tongue as he left. _What does he have to think about?!_ I screamed inside. _He's living in bliss – he has a family, a home; for the love of Goddess, I don't even have a _house_! I live in a tent!_

I sniffed and cursed my cold as I instinctively reached for the tool I had been using – and growled in irritation as I remembered it's absence. Bringing my knees up to my chin, I decided to just sit and enjoy the peace and quiet of the dig site while I could. I needed time to gather my thoughts, and the old bloke was right – I needed to mellow out if I want this cold to subside.

_It'__s all that _boy's_ fault_, I thought. My face screwed into a scowl. _If he hadn't pulled me into that frigid water I wouldn't be so sick right now. He didn't even have the decency to check up on me after that – he hasn't been around for over a week!_

I let a frustrated scream out of my lips as I pounded the ground. It let off enough steam for me to calm down for a few moments. _What's the point of thinking of that twit? He's probably found some gorgeous buxom blonde girl, who's younger and prettier than me. I think I'll just sit here and rot away – there's no one out there who could care for a selfish girl like myself._

I leaned my cheek against my knees and drew random lines in the sand. I've been angry at the boy for the past five days – but can you blame me? I was getting attention from a young, dashing, charming male … but all good things come to an end, don't they?

I sighed as memories of my teenage years – Harley Davidson's, bar fights, a young and thin Carter – came flooding back into my mind. It was good before Carter had become a University professor and convinced me to join him; I hadn't thought of my future in the slightest before I was twenty, much less as a professor's aid in a high-end University.

I chuckled bitterly as I remembered the look on my parents' faces when I told them – they had seemed more shocked with this than when I had come home drunk for the first time when I was only thirteen. It wasn't long before Carter had discovered his long-lost roots here in Forget-Me-Not Valley.

Sighing again, I let my arms go limp and slide to my sides; my head found a nice crook in the rocky wall and I closed my eyes. _This cold is going to kill me_, I thought, sniffing. _It feels as though my ears are just as clogged as my nose._

"Oh, so you're still in here."

My eyes shot open at the sound of the familiar voice; I looked to see that the thief was standing in the doorway, his cocky smile playing across his lips, and his hair and shoulders peppered with snow. Though my mind was rejoicing quietly, my body was not – before either of us could react, I shot across the room and raised my open palm.

The sound of the skin-to-skin contact echoed around us, beating against my eardrums like sharp nails. I felt guilty to have slapped him, especially since he was still hunched over to the side with a look of pure shock written on his face, but I had already come too far not to get angry now.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded. Well, it was a start.

He straightened back to full height and looked down at me steadily. "Checking up on you," he replied aggravatingly cool as he touched his wounded cheek gingerly.

"Checking up on me?!" My voice cracked with every other syllable. "It's been ten days! Don't you think it's a little late to be checking up on me?! Oh, wait, that's right – you're a _thief_. What, did you have a few mansions to 'hit-up'; couldn't be bothered by some petty cave-dweller like me?"

"I couldn't do anything this week," he replied, wincing as his fingers grazed an especially tender spot, "I've been in bed with a nasty cold."

Despite my previous anger, a small gasp let itself escape from my lips, and took whatever rage left with it – leaving only guilt. I looked at his rosy cheek and my heart dropped. "Goddess … I'm so sorry. I've been sick, too; it didn't occur to me that you might be. Please, let me see your cheek." I reached out and gently pulled his hand away, and the sight of the bruise forming along his cheekbone made me want to cry. It was just a slap, but even that could do some damage to his fair skin. "I am _so_ sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," he whispered.

I bit my lip – the way he had whispered was so … so _intimate_. It made me not want to worry about it; it made me want to curl up in his arms and stay there forever. I glanced from where I was inspecting on his cheek to his eyes – just to find he was already staring at me. I clenched my teeth, trying not to let the blush bubbling inside of me grow.

"W-what?" I stammered, still trying to busy myself with inspecting the bruise.

He reached up and put his hand on mine, flattening it to his face. "You're so beautiful when you're like this," he whispered, closing his eyes.

I gasped and whipped my hand from under his and held it to my chest as if he had threatened to take it away – and I'm sure I was staring at him just as accusingly. He looked at me and … that velvet laughter flowed from his lips. It wasn't mocking me; it wasn't screaming "Fooled you!!"

It embraced me. Soon, I had joined in too, and we stood laughing at a joke that was never said. _It feels good laughing with him,_ I thought as we calmed down. _It's like a rush, and leaves my heart beating fast, even moments after we're done. He can take my anger and turn it into happiness, using just a few words._

I could feel a slight blush run its way across my cheeks as I realized I had been standing there, lost in thought, as he stared down at me. I placed a hand on my cheek, smiling shyly despite myself. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had spaced out," I excused.

He smiled again and forgave me. He ran his hand through his damp hair, and then chuckled as he rubbed his now-moist fingers together. "You're very distracting – do you know that?" He commented, grinning. When I looked at him and silently urged him to continue, he went on. "There's supposed to be a blizzard tonight and tomorrow. They've been calling it the biggest in a decade."

My heart sank. "Tomorrow's Thanksgiving," I murmured, more to myself than him.

"Did you have someone to give cookies to?"

I looked up at him and my mind flashed to the cookies I had stashed away in the icebox. "No," I lied as I looked away.

He put a gentle hand on my chin and turned my head to face him once more. Leaning over, he bumped foreheads with me. "Then could I have them?" When I didn't reply, he continued. "Middle shelf, between the grape jam and the mystery meat."

I gasped and pulled my face away from his. "You've been inside my tent!" I accused.

"To which you should be returning soon," he replied, chuckling. He hunched his shoulder and tilted his head. "The snow was bad enough when I got here, and it's already freezing out there – I doubt very much you'd want to get snowed in here."

"Are you serious?" I demanded, staring at him incredulously as I marched past him and down the long hallway to the cave's opening. The thick clouds didn't let any moonlight through, though you could see its ominous glow, but sure enough, those tiny kisses on my bare skin were those of snowflakes.

A beam of light shot past me, and the young man soon stood beside me. His pocket flashlight was held gently in his hand as it scanned the fresh blanket of snow.

"It's already almost a foot high," he commented, kicking the snow at his feet for extra effect.

I gulped nervously – I _hated_ getting my socks wet, but having snow in them? "Eugh," I grimaced, regretting not wearing jeans or pants.

Reading my thoughts, the young man glanced over to me. "Do you want me to carry you?"

I blushed and was instantly grateful for the cover of darkness. "Oh, please," I replied, trying to sound aloof. "I'm a big girl – I can take care of myself."

He shrugged, but I saw in the light that reflected up to him that he wore an amused smile. We set out into the powdery snow, with me leading the way and grimacing with each step. I knew he could tell I was distressed because of the light chuckles he let out under his breath. I unzipped the tent (there wasn't any need to unlock it, since _some_one didn't lock it back up) and stepped inside, welcomed by at least a little bit of warmth from the heater.

I asked for the flashlight as I fished my lighter from my pocket, and the young man complied. I shone it at the kerosene lantern that hung from the ceiling and soon the tent was lit up.

"I didn't notice you don't use electric bulbs," he noted as I handed the flashlight back to him. "Any particular reason why?"

I shrugged, untying my shoelaces. "I prefer it – I like the smell."

He hummed thoughtfully and, seeing that I had trouble balancing on one foot, he reached out to support me. I found myself comparing him to Carter once more; my previous love would have simply told me to sit down before I hurt myself.

_Previous love?_ I echoed in my mind. _There can't be a "previous love" without there being a "current love" – and there certainly isn't one of those around here._

I finished removing my boots and socks, and I stood before him barefooted. He glanced down at my feet and I saw a small smile tug at his lips.

"I know – they're huge," I sighed, feeling very self-conscious. I turned my back to him to search for new, dry socks, and he laughed.

"They're not huge at all – I was simply amused that you take the time to keep your toenails clean and well-pedicure, even though you work in a mine."

I could feel my face flush and my ears heat up. "That's an odd thing to say," I managed through the lump in my throat.

He laughed and kneeled beside me at the small heater. "I know, and I'm surprised you didn't slap me again when I said it – do you mind if I turn this up? I'm not much of one for the cold ..."

I bit the side of my lip, remembering my very unwelcoming greeting. "Go ahead," I muttered. He sat on the floor, cross-legged, and I soon joined him with some new socks.

I looked at the bruise on his cheek – the red had disappeared, which made the purple a little softer. Although I was terrified, I still reached out and placed my hand gently on his face, and he absentmindedly cupped his own over mine as he continued adjusting the heat.

When he finally finished, he closed his eyes and leaned into my hold, curling his fingers around my hand. He twisted his head, his eyes half-open, and kissed my palm and fingers. He was so gentle; it was easy to see why so many women must fall for him.

He raised his eyes, his lips still firmly pressed into my hand. His gaze met mine, and I could see him glancing from my eyes to my lips. My heart was pounding and I could feel my breath becoming laboured. The feeling was both familiar yet exotic to me – I was terrified.

So when I noticed him shift slightly, I spun my head forward, breaking the magic. I was blushing, and I could feel a cold sweat, but he merely slackened his hold and laughed lightly.

"You tease me, Goddess," he sighed, leaning back on his other hand. He entwined our fingers and let our hands fall between us.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, bringing my knees to my chest.

He smiled and looked at me. "There's no need for apologies – but I will have you sooner or later," he added, grinning impishly at me. It was the most childish I had seen him, and I found it far more becoming than the suave heart-stealer he made himself out to be.

"Do you really expect to win the heart of a Goddess?" I teased, placing myself in the role he set out for me.

"Tut-tut," he mused, "I think I almost had you there. It's simply a matter of time." He lied down, still holding my hand – yet, as he rested his body, his stomach growled and he groaned.

"A little hungry, are you?" I laughed, grasping his hand tighter and scooting closer to his face.

He smiled up at me, and I was under the impression that he was embarrassed. "I apologise – I couldn't eat much while I was sick, so it's left me quite famished now."

_He covers up embarrassment with big words_, I mentally noted as I reluctantly let go of his hand to search for food. "Why didn't you take food from my fridge while you were in here earlier?" I asked, mocking annoyance.

He laughed and I heard him stand. "Mystery meat isn't all that appealing, you know."

I smiled at him as he stood next to me, and returned it with a grin. I found the knee-high chest that I used as a cupboard, and we began sifting through it, taking out the cans we wouldn't mind eating, which was few on his part.

_He's a picky eater for a thief_, I thought, as I looked at our tiny pile of "good" food.

--

We settled on a small meal of corn, baby carrots, and spinach. He didn't eat a lot, and I ended up eating the majority of it out of fear of being forgotten in the fridge.

The snow was relentlessly hitting the tent, and I was grateful for his company as we sat in silence, drinking tea. It was far past my bedtime, and I kept drifting in and out of sleep as I sat there. I knew he was watching me, so I struggled to stay awake, but it was turning out to be a futile effort.

"You're tired – I should go soon," he whispered as he scooted over to me to lend his shoulder.

"You're not going out into the storm, are you?" I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

He shrugged. "Unless you let me sleep here, I'll have to."

I reached out for his hand and I held it. "Of course you can stay here," I replied. "You can have the sleeping bag, and I'll sleep on the floor."

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "It would be rude and unmanly of me to let you do that. I'll sleep on the floor."

I pulled my head back and glared at him. "No, you're the guest, you should have the sleeping bag," I answered stubbornly.

I soon discovered that we were both generous mules, as we argued over who will sleep in comfort for the next ten minutes.

He finally sighed. "If this is what you're like when you're half-asleep, I'd love to debate with you when you're fully awake," he commented. "How about this – it's either we _both_ sleep on the floor, or we _both_ sleep in the bag. Since I don't like the cold, I nominate the sleeping bag."

"Sure, whatever," I muttered, far too tired to continue arguing or to care that I'd be sleeping with a man I barely knew. All I knew was that I needed to sleep badly.

I directed him over to where I had placed the pyjamas he had worn the other night, and we changed with our backs to each other. I slipped on a sweater over my PJs and put one of Carter's beside the sleeping bag in case my partner got too cold during the night, and then I slipped into bed first. I watched through dreary and unfocused eyes as the man clicked off the gasoline heater, then shut off the kerosene lamp before joining me.

We shifted around until neither of us could complain about feeling crammed, and he wrapped an arm around me as I lay half on top of him. I couldn't help but notice his fingers were fidgeting quite a bit, and I wondered if he could possibly be more nervous than I am.

**--**

**Ugghh ... I'm **_**so**_** sorry it took so long! I'm really happy this chapter is now done – if you want a hint as to how long it took, let me tell you:**

**This chapter was started **_**immediately**_** after the second chapter was posted.**

**Stupid writer's block.**

**Anyway, there are only three or four more chapters left (it ends on New Year's) so enjoy it while you can! Mwa-ha-ha!**

_**REVIEW!**_


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